When I say that this book would not have been possible without the support of many, I mean it in the deepest sense. The names that appear below refer not only to the people who helped me navigate the publication of My Glory Was, but also—and more essentially—those who figured prominently into my being alive to write the first word to the last.
I must begin, then, by noting the insufficiency of the word acknowledgment in titling this page. Still, I must give my gratitude a written go.
In no particular order, I would like to thank:
My parents, Arthur and Beverly, and my sister and brother-in-law, Jodie and Steve—whose loving care, endless understanding, and decades of intrepid visits to be by my side in hospitals in New York and California have been at the foundation of all I have been able to do and accomplish, including this book.
Dearest friends who were next up on the spreadsheet when the baton passing ceased (because a donor heart arrived)—Deirdre and Sue—as well as others who were rooting for me from afar with incessant hope and the most devoted prayers. The universe would not have been stormed so forcefully in my favor without all of you.
Lenny, Jack, Jon, and Gary—four treasured friends whose names did not appear on the spreadsheet of women, but whose wisdom and shining presence in my hospital room (and in my life) have been and continue to be the stuff of wonder.
The business associates who made it possible for Scott to work remotely from California for many months—the exceptionally supportive Brent, John, and Peggy.
The heart transplant team and support staff at Cedars-Sinai who have seen me through with kindness, empathy, and excellence—Angela Velleca, Emily Stimpson, Jenna Rush, Ellen Anifantis, Stephanie Kagimoto, Genevieve Harlocker, and all the esteemed rest, as well as the brilliant, endlessly compassionate cardiologists, many of whom have performed on me the most adept heart biopsies a gal could wish for—Drs. Kobashigawa, Patel, Chang, Moriguchi, Kittleson, Azarbal, Geft, Czer, Ramzy, and Hamilton.
My literary agent, Rebecca Gradinger—a glorious friend in her own right—who manages somehow to see publishing potential in every email I write and every vignette I retell. With a steady planting of two feet in my camp, Rebecca has illuminated for me time and again the big picture, the end goal, and the joys that are worth the writing toil that precedes them. It is because of her encouragement and the arm-in-arm sense of our venturing forward together that I dared take on the journey of this second book.
My Harper Wave editors: Karen Rinaldi, who bought this book in its earliest stages and imbued the whole project with enthusiasm and insight. Sarah Murphy, who dove into my pages with an extraordinarily keen eye and incisive mind to help me distill the soul of this story from its complexity. And Hannah Robinson, whose excitement brought spark and a youthful view from start to finish.
Stephen Koch, my wise literary beacon of can-do inspiration whose mere utterance of “Yes, and what’s in the next chapter?” contained the magic to make me believe I could actually go forth and write it.
My fantastic Casey, who understands and shares along with me the love and angst of creativity, and the exhilaration and trepidation of facing the empty page. How wonderful it has been to learn and grow alongside my artist son throughout the writing of this book, and always.
And finally, my beloved Scott—the man and the love and the soul behind every bit of my strength, every ounce of perseverance in my writing and in facing my continuing health challenges, and every positive thought and excited sense of accomplishment that has come with each completed page of this book. I adore you and thank you, my love.